Ihave to confess: I am a stalker. My chosen subject: Pam Reed, ultrarunner extraordinaire. My interest in Pam started innocently enough. I had stumbled upon Ultramarathon Man, the book by Dean Karnazes, and had become intrigued by this odd

sport of ultrarunning. At the time, marathoning seemed extreme enough for me, a stay-at-home mother of twins. I couldn’t imagine anyone being able to run farther than 26.2 miles—or for that matter, why anyone would want

to. But Dean’s book showed me that the marathon was just the warm-up for an entirely different breed of runner. As it turned out, there were whole groups of people that got together, paid entry fees, and raced for 50, 60, 100 miles and more at a time. For fun! Dean’s book made it seem (almost) normal. I needed to know more.

A quick computer search yielded a font of information. This sport wasn’t so underground after all. After Googling Dean, I saw that he was engaged (possibly without his knowledge) in an intense rivalry with a 44-year-old housewife and mother of five from Tucson, Arizona, named Pam Reed. With the click of a mouse, I switched from Googling Dean to Googling Pam, discovering that she was amazingly accomplished. According to her Web site, Pam was the two-time reigning champ of the Badwater 135, the first person to run 300 miles nonstop without sleep, the American women’s record holder in the 24-hour run with 138.94 miles, and had completed more than 100 races exceeding the marathon distance! She had been on 60 Minutes, Letterman, Tony Danza, and CNN—all for her running!

Energized by Pam’s success and fame, I added up all the similarities between Pam and me. She was a mom, a housewife, loved to run, had no coach, lived in the desert Southwest, was

over 35, and was not a great (that is, fast) marathoner. But what I found most intriguing was what we didn’t have in common: she was a champion ultrarunner, and I was a four-hour marathoner. She was something I wanted to be. That’s when I decided it was fate. I was destined to meet Pam Reed.

I told my long-suffering husband, Tim, about Pam; what an inspiration she was, how she opened doors for women, and how I wanted to be just like her. I said it seemed only logical that if fans could chase Lance, I could chase Pam. My husband responded wryly, “Sounds more like stalking Pam.” And thus, a stalker was born.

Like all good stalkers, I began reading anything I could get my hands on about my subject. I waited anxiously for Pam’s bio to come out. I watched the 60 Minutes face-off between Pam and Dean. I saw A Race for the Soul, tirelessly searching for any glimpse of her (she’s on the cover and in the bonus footage, but only glimpsed in the video). I scoured race reports and results to see whether she had run. I was insulted after reading Outside Magazine’s obnoxious “Desperate Housewife” article about the rivalry between Pam and Dean (bad Outside!) complete with scary photos of Pam that probably bolstered her detractors and Dean groupies and even gave a momentary pause to her most ardent fans (Hi, Pam!). But when all was said and done, Pam was still the (wo)Man! She rocked! Since my interest (OK, obsession) in Pam first started, many of my captive listeners (my unfortunate running group, my spouse, my sister, even my small children) asked me why I was so interested in her. Initially, I said it was all about the running—if I did what she did, I would get faster. But after awhile, I came to realize that I found Pam fascinating for other reasons.

First, she validates my chosen method of training. So many of the expert programs and coaches today have such rigid schedules that they make

it virtually impossible for a mother of young children to follow. Anyone who has been a stay-at-home mom knows that you have to get your running in when you can, usually in small bursts. But that method is scoffed at by serious runners. They dismiss your claims of not having enough time every morning to get in at least 12 miles, saying that you are not dedicated enough. Have you ever tried to explain to a 7-year-old that he has to make his own breakfast every morning because Mommy is too busy running? According to the “experts,” putting in miles the way Pam does—several times a day, sometimes for as little as 40 minutes—is a plan to take you straight to Loserville. If you are naive enough to show your training log to other runners or, God forbid, at a runners’ forum, be prepared to be berated for your insistent focus on “junk” miles. But the reality for women who have to be home by 6:30 A.M. to wake up kids and get them to school is that you have to get your midweek longer runs in during a couple (or more) of shorter segments of running during soccer (tennis, piano, or insert other activity here).

Second (and more thrilling to me because I am slow, slow, slow), Pam never does speed or track work. She claims that it would make her hate running. But, even without the revered days at the track, Pam

is consistent and strong and kicks butt in ultras because she runs way more miles than pretty much everyone else. Third, Pam shows us housewives that there are options. Who knew I could take care of two kids, a husband, a house,

and two dogs; make lunches; cook meals; run endless errands; volunteer at school; carpool; shuttle kids to and from activities; and still find time to train to run 100 miles? Heck, Pam ran 300! Pam opened the door of possibilities to all of

us. And she hasn’t kept her training, or her struggles, a secret. Pam validated running for the love of running. By refusing to be boxed in, or forced into a mainstream training program, she has stayed true to herself—and her running.

So, for all these reasons, I have been stalking Pam. Unfortunately, for all my excitement at being a stalker, as it turns out, I’m not particularly good at it. I have yet to actually meet Pam. I met Dean at the San Francisco Marathon where he was a featured speaker—a nice guy, truthfully. We were semi-lost together, trying to find the room where he was supposed to speak. But Pam has eluded me. She did leave me a message on my answering machine, though. I was running the Tucson Marathon (of course) and had called to find out about shuttle service. Lo and behold, Pam herself called me back. Progress! When I went to run the marathon, I had high hopes of finally meeting my idol. I searched for her at the expo, the start, the course—but nothing. Then, after I had finished, I was standing in a stupor, exhausted, but elated because I had qualified for Boston. My husband was standing a few feet away and waving frantically, pointing. Assuming he was simply overjoyed at my time, I happily waved back, even raising my fists in the air in triumph. He continued to wave in an almost manic way, until I became a little embarrassed at his exuberance. When we finally reached each other, he said frantically, “Did you see her? Did you see her! She was standing right next to you!” “

Who?” I asked, dumbfounded, my body depleted, my brain carbohydrate starved. “Pam!” he practically yelled at me. “She was standing right next to you!” I spun around, desperately searching for my elusive prey. But she was gone, swallowed by the sea of happy finishers and their loved ones. I had missed Pam Reed. “

Some stalker,” my husband said with a smile, putting his arms around me. But I’m nothing if not determined: to run 100 miles, to qualify for Western States, and to meet Pam Reed. “I’ll find her,” I said confidently. “I think she’s running the Zane Grey 50-Mile Trail Race.”